


A Successful Burglary

by Chamelaucium



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: (and a certain dwarf king), Fluff, M/M, On the Quest, SO MUCH FLUFF, except perhaps that Bilbo is just VERY unlucky, he attracts falling objects, it's so fluffy and there's nothing else to really tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-03 09:08:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chamelaucium/pseuds/Chamelaucium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unfortunate injury on Bilbo's part has unexpected consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bilbo

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic was my first ever Thilbo fic! It's literally so fluffy but there is a _little_ bit of angst later on... I hope you enjoy it :D
> 
> Note: Gandalf doesn't actually make an appearance in this fic so I just pretend he's off doing wizardy stuff somewhere, yes? Also there's no specific time but I guess definitely before Rivendell, perhaps before the Trolls? Either way.
> 
> This is dedicated to my wonderful, beautiful, amazing sister, who gave me the idea of an unconscious Bilbo and caring Thorin.

**BILBO**

**T** horin has been grumpy all day – well, grumpier than normal. Fíli and Kíli have been being their usual selves, teasing and laughing at the other dwarves. Bifur and Bofur have spent the day trying to stop Bombur eating all the provisions; Óin and Glóin have been arguing over the value of the treasure they might find; Dori has been having trouble stopping Nori from filling Ori's head with fantastical nonsense and Dwalin and Balin are discussing the best way to defeat a dragon.

Of course, among all the chaos, no one really notices Bilbo.

The hobbit trudges along behind the others, his pack heavy and feet muddy, feeling lonesome and wishing not for the first time for his warm hearth, comfy armchair and fully-stocked pantry. Oh, his pantry! It had been anything but full after that confounded tea-party, as the dwarves fondly refer to it. 'Enforced Entry by Intimidation and Ruthless Plundering of Food', Bilbo prefers. He sighs dejectedly.

The sun begins to set, and Bilbo is thinking wistfully of stopping and having dinner, when suddenly the heavens open and Bilbo sees Thorin's mood turn even blacker as hair, beard and clothes become sodden. Even Fíli and Kíli stop messing around under the force of their uncle's glare. The Company hurries faster through the forest, fat raindrops splashing around them and puddles soaking the unwary even further, until they reach an area of closely-packed trees where the rain cannot penetrate. Bilbo is desperately thankful; he is cold, wet and foot-sore, and dealing with the dwarves' antics wears him out.

He sits on a protruding tree root while the others sort out fires and food, listening to the clamour of thirteen dwarves set about making camp. Well, twelve: Thorin sits on an overturned log, watching the others.

'Bofur, where's your flint? Nori's lost mine…'

'Fíli, I am trying to cook that! Mitts off!'

'Ori, did you _have_ to sit there?'

And so on. Bilbo would offer to help, but the dwarves see him mostly as too small to be of any use, and they just pat him on the head and decline his offer. So Bilbo sits out, shivering in his damp clothes and wishing the food would hurry up.

Over on his upturned log, Thorin seems to watch the proceedings with almost a sense of detachment – like he's not really seeing what's in front of him. Like when he looks at Bilbo.

Of all the dwarves, Thorin is the one who has not yet really accepted that Bilbo is, technically, part of the company. While the others have seemed to embrace Gandalf's choice of burglar, Thorin seems determined not to. Bilbo knows he will have to find a way to convince him, somehow; respect is important for a hobbit.

The sound of raindrops falling on the leaves above his head soothes Bilbo, and makes him think of evenings spent in his study, curled up in his chair by the fire with a good book, even as he sits in his waterlogged clothes in the chill night air. Speaking of fires, their fire is now burning merrily, snapping and cracking as it devours the logs. Bombur is preparing something; Bilbo can smell it even now and it makes his mouth water.

Now that there is only waiting to do, the dwarves begin to disperse – although they mainly huddle around the fire to dry off. Bilbo joins them, and finds himself next to Ori, who is writing in his journal.

Bilbo watches over his shoulder at the long, straight lines of Dwarvish script, all sharp angles and straight lines. The language is completely unintelligible to him, but Bilbo's quick mind wishes to know more about what those strokes Ori is making on the page mean, so he asks, 'What does it say?'

Ori is happy to translate what he has written, and he and Bilbo spend the next fifteen minutes discussing the contents of the journal, and Ori teaches Bilbo many new words – 'forest', 'dragon', 'fire'… A little shiver travels up Bilbo's spine as he sees Thorin's name, written in Khuzdûl. As if Thorin knows what he is thinking, Bilbo looks up to see the dwarf leader's black eyes watching him. He shivers at the intensity in that gaze.

Suddenly joyful shouts break the relative quiet Bilbo has been enjoying, as Bombur calls the others to the meal – at last, the meal is ready! Bilbo accepts his wooden bowl in anticipation; Bombur is certainly a gifted cook, managing to create quite delightful meals out of limited resources. Tonight, it looks like a squirrel has found its way into Bombur's cooking pot.

The stew is hot and tasty, and it chases away all the last vestiges of chill from Bilbo's body. It is unusually quiet as the dwarves all sit, devouring their meal; the calm doesn't last, though, and soon burps and exclamations of satisfaction sound as the dwarves set down their now-empty bowls. Bilbo feels quite content, sitting there in the warmth of the fire with a full belly and dry clothes listening to the hum of the other dwarves' chatter. Now all he wants to do is find a little patch of ground, curl up in his thick blanket and…

Thorin's commanding voice rings out, cutting the others off mid-sentence. 'Who will take first watch?'

Bilbo snaps back to full alertness, all thoughts of sleep gone from his mind.

None of the rest of the company is volunteering; they all look half asleep. Indeed, Óin seems to actually be asleep, Bilbo thinks, if the way his head lolling onto Glóin's shoulder is any indication. Thorin's gaze wanders around the circle, drifting from dwarf to dwarf as if to guilt-trip them into volunteering. His gaze slides over Bilbo, however, as it has done many times before; skipping from Bofur on Bilbo's right to Ori on his left.

Suddenly, the Tookish streak that sent him running out of his door kicks in again and Bilbo stands, his head not reaching much higher than the top of Bofur's hat. He doesn't know why he does it, except perhaps that he wants to see recognition in those dark eyes of Thorin's.

'I'll take first watch,' he offers.


	2. Thorin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the bookmarks and kudos! I really appreciate it <3

**THORIN**

The hobbit stands. Thorin's eyes flick to him, as if to tell him to sit back down, but the grim determination he can see in the hobbit's face makes him pause.

'I'll take first watch,' he says, and Thorin can't quite believe he heard him correctly. He looks at the hobbit, a little incredulously, but after a while he nods.

'As you wish, Master Baggins,' he says curtly, and turns from the circle to find his pack and claim the best sleeping space. He can feel their eyes watching him as he turns away. He finds privacy in a little spot between the large roots of a tree, cast into shadow by the flickering of the flames. As he unpacks his bedroll and swiftly wraps his blankets and furs around himself, he can hear the others thanking Bilbo, and Dwalin offering to take second watch when Bilbo's shift is over.

He turns, facing the trunk of the tree. With his eyes he follows the lines of the bark, traces the grooves with his forefinger. It is quiet once more as the dwarves begin to fall asleep, and he can still hear the soft crackle of the slowly dying fire. His eyelids begin to grow heavy as he stares at the base of the tree trunk, and they start to close…

Suddenly he starts awake again, a little unnerved. There in the bark, it looked almost like – for a moment there, the grooves had seemed to transform into Bilbo's face, filled with an accusatory look that made Thorin squirm in discomfort. He knows he's been ignoring the hobbit, barely speaking to him unless absolutely necessary and he also knows that he hasn't been very fair to him.

Deciding that he'll never be able to sleep now until he at least _speaks_ with the hobbit, Thorin rolls out of his furs and blankets and gets up. He turns towards what remains of the fire and sees Bilbo outlined in the orange embers, but –

Thorin stalks over to where the hobbit lies on the ground, asleep. So much for keeping watch, Thorin thinks, and as he is about to start telling Bilbo off for sleeping on duty, he trips over something large and heavy which sends him sprawling. Thorin falls, and is surprised at the soft landing – until he realises he is lying draped across the hobbit.

Hastily picking himself, Thorin stands again and looks back down at Bilbo, ready to begin his rant – adding untidiness to the list of faults – but he feels a twinge when he realises Bilbo has not woken up. Dwarves are not light, and he knows Bilbo should have been awoken if not by the noise he made as he fell then at least by Thorin's weight landing on top of him.

But Bilbo hasn't moved an inch.

Heart in his mouth, Thorin whirls around and looks at what the heavy object he tripped over was – not Bilbo's pack, as he'd originally assumed it was, but instead a branch. Not particularly large, but certainly big enough to cause damage when dropped from a great height.

Instantly Thorin is on his knees, next to Bilbo. He studies the hobbit, and sees a line of dark liquid running down Bilbo's cheek from his hairline – blood. Gingerly Thorin puts his hand to Bilbo's head, and it comes away warm and sticky.

Thorin feels ill – he hadn't expected something like this to happen so soon. Torn, he doesn't know what to do – he doesn't want to leave Bilbo, but he needs Óin, the healer of the group. Thorin dithers for a few moments more, but decides. He will see how hurt Bilbo is first, then wake Óin if need be.

He smoothes the hobbit's matted hair away from his face, and touches Bilbo's cheek, gently so as not to startle him. Thorin's hand is cold, and to his utter relief Bilbo's eyelids flutter gently. His breath is expelled softly, and Thorin has never been so glad to have someone breathe in his face as he is right then. Gently he puts his hands to the hobbit's shoulders, and Bilbo's eyes slowly open.

He stares at Thorin for a few moments while his eyes focus; then all of a sudden he blanches. Thorin thinks he is falling unconscious again, and he tightens his grip on the hobbit's shoulders. Bilbo gasps a little at the pain, and Thorin immediately lets go.

'I'm sorry,' he says.

Bilbo doesn't look at him, but slowly pushes himself up from the ground. 'What happened?' he asks. 'I remember…' he stops, and Thorin can't be sure but it looks like Bilbo is blushing.

'Don't be embarrassed, Master Ba-' he pauses, then says 'Bilbo. A branch fell on you while you were keeping watch; it must have been loosened by the wind…' Even as he speaks, they can hear the gale outside the protection of the forest howling, like a wolf. Thorin sees Bilbo shudder.

'Yes, that must have been it…' Bilbo mutters, mostly to himself. He doesn't look Thorin in the eye.

Now that he is upright, the trickle of blood has slowed but it is still noticeable, and the track that previously made its way to his cheek has crept down towards Bilbo's chin.

'We have to staunch the bleeding,' Thorin mutters. 'We need bandages.'

'Please don't bother yourself on my account, Th – Thorin, please-' Bilbo starts, but Thorin cuts him off.

'Don't be silly.'

Inside, Thorin is cursing. He doesn't know where Óin keeps the bandages – in his medicine bag, Thorin supposes, but who knows where he keeps that. Óin is very protective of his things, and Thorin doesn't want to waste any more time than is necessary. So he does the only thing he can.

At the loud ripping noise, Thorin sees Bilbo start, then his eyes go round in shock.

'Thorin, no!' Bilbo is so surprised he almost forgets to be scared of Thorin, as he tries to stop him ripping up his own undershirt to make strips of bandage. But Thorin ignores him, and soon he has enough to wrap around the hobbit's head to stop the bleeding.

'Hold still,' he instructs, and Bilbo does so; he almost seems to be holding his breath in his attempt to imitate stone.

Thorin carefully wraps the layers of 'bandage' around Bilbo's head, tying it in a knot to keep it secure. When he is finished he almost laughs at the sight of the little hobbit, with bits of bandage poking out from his head. Bilbo looks utterly miserable, and Thorin puts a hand to the hobbit's shoulder, ignoring Bilbo's involuntary jump.

'How do you feel?' he asks.

'I – I'm really quite fine now, thank you,' Bilbo says, and makes to reach for his pack – which Thorin now sees lies near his feet – but Thorin grabs it before he can get it.

'I'm not going to leave you alone until Óin has seen to you,' Thorin says, 'but knowing our good doctor, he will be unavailable to see you until tomorrow.' He sees Bilbo smile at the wry note in his voice.

'Please, Thorin, I'm alright,' Bilbo says, and tries to stand; but Thorin is having none of it. He pushes the hobbit back down and then slides his arms underneath the hobbit's comparatively lightweight frame, scooping him up and keeping him held close to his chest.

Bilbo squeaks as the ground drops away from beneath him.

'Thorin, what are you doing?' he asks, his voice high-pitched in a mixture of both fear and outrage.

Thorin ignores him. Instead he carries Bilbo over to where he had been sleeping, his furs still pushed back from when he had got up earlier. Gently he places the hobbit down and tucks the blankets and furs closely around him.

'Go to sleep now, Bilbo. Óin will see you tomorrow,' he says in as soft a voice as a dwarf can manage.

'What about you?' Bilbo asks, his voice muffled. 'Where will you sleep?'

'I'll take over the watch for now. Just sleep,' Thorin replies, and he watches as Bilbo struggles against the heaviness of sleep; how his eyelids begin to droop and finally close, and the peaceful bliss washes over his features. When Thorin is certain he is asleep, he turns away to keep watch over the forest until the grey light of dawn begins to infiltrate through the thick canopy of green leaves above them.

* * *


	3. Bilbo II

**BILBO**

'Now, let me look at you, laddie...'

Something prods Bilbo, and it hurts; he pushes it away and rolls over.

'I need to see - Bilbo -' the words are cut off as Bilbo reaches out and - none too gently - pushes away again the dwarf who is trying to wake him up and rolls over, burrowing deeper under the soft covers.

'Alright, that's enough,' a gruff and commanding voice says, and instantly Bilbo freezes. He recognises that voice; it's the voice that sends shivers down his spine. Bilbo is suddenly wide awake, staring at the bark of a tree trunk. Then he recognises the covers - fur. Not his thick blankets back at home. _Thorin's furs!_

Instantly Bilbo is up, scrambling out of the bedding and backing against the tree. It is light, and a huddle of dwarves seem to have got a fire going. But his attention is focused on the two dwarves in front of him - Óin and Thorin. Bilbo feels himself blush to the very roots of his hair - which feels disgusting, he notes; all clumpy and - red? The memories of the night before come flooding back, and he feels his cheeks flush even darker.

'I'm - I'm terribly sorry!' he stammers to Óin, feeling Thorin's gaze burning him.

The old dwarf smiles and waves his apology away. 'I just need to have a look at your head, that's all,' he says and Bilbo nods - this makes his head whirl, and he makes a mental note not to do that again - and sits down so that Óin can check his wound.

Óin peels off the blood-soaked bandages, now stiff with dried blood, and Bilbo is glad he cannot see Thorin's face at that moment in time - he is mortified that the King of the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain ripped up his own shirt to make Bilbo a bandage. As Óin inspects the damage to his head, occasionally pulling at hairs caked with dried blood which makes his skin prickle and him gasp in pain, the dwarf makes little tutting sounds.

'Och, 'tis a nasty wound here -'

'But it's not too bad?' Thorin interrupts. Óin glances in Thorin's direction.

'Nay, 'tisn't too much more'n a scratch, but being a head wound it'll bleed a lot,' he explains. Sure enough, as he speaks Bilbo can feel a little rivulet of blood trickle warmly through his hair. It takes all his self-control not to shudder; it won't do to let Thorin see his discomfort.

As Óin applies a soothing balm and new, clean, white bandages to Bilbo's head, Bilbo is mentally scolding himself harder than ever even his mother scolded him - and Belladonna Took never went easy on anyone if they acted up. He remembers his thought process of last night so clearly - take first watch, don't mess up, get Thorin's respect. If only it had been that easy - and his chances ruined by a falling branch! Well, there was more to it than that, Bilbo knows...

'Are you all right, Bilbo?' Óin asks. 'You're a bit warm,' he says, his hand pressed to Bilbo's forehead.

'Oh, yes, I'm fine, really!' Bilbo laughs hastily, internally cursing his blushing.

'That's what he said last night,' Thorin's dark voice says, and Bilbo's smile falters at the wry tone. He looks at the floor.

'Well, lad, if you do need anything just see me,' Óin says. 'Oh, before I forget. Here, take a swig o' this. Takes the pain away!' he winks at Bilbo, holding out a little bottle.

Bilbo sniffs at it. 'Ale?'

'Aye!' Óin nods, looking terribly pleased with himself. 'The best painkiller there is!'

The ale smells rather bitter, but Bilbo does as he's told and takes a swig. He nearly chokes as it burns his throat - he forgets how strong dwarven ale is.

Óin claps him on the back, and with a final nod to Thorin he's gone.

'Go and have breakfast,' Thorin says softly, and Bilbo turns to look at him.

'Thank you, Thorin. For looking after me...' Bilbo trails off, and hurriedly scurries away to join the others by the fire before he can start thinking about how comfortable he had been last night, curled up in the furs next to Thorin, sitting beside him, his quiet warmth better than any bed-pan.

When he reaches the fire, the dwarves begin clamouring out in greeting and offering their condolences on his injury. Bofur pats him on the back and offers him use of his hat - which Bilbo gratefully declines - and Ori tells him he's written about it especially in his journal, while Bombur gives him an extra serving of breakfast.

Touched by the gestures, Bilbo tucks in heartily to his extra helping of crispy bacon rashers, the wound on his head forgotten for the moment. In fact, he feels positively cheery. He feels like he wants to _dance_ \- he's about to ask Bofur to get his flute out when Thorin strolls into the knot of dwarves.

'We're leaving as soon as you're ready,' he announces, and his tone implies that they'd better be ready quickly. As one, the dwarves hurry off in different directions, to pack up their bedding and their kit, and Bilbo follows suit - retrieving his pack from where Thorin had placed it last night.

Soon enough everyone is ready and Thorin motions for them to start walking, himself in the lead. Bilbo is amazed - he doesn't think Thorin can possibly have got much sleep last night, ousted from his bed as he was, and yet there he is at the front, leading the others. Admirable, Bilbo thinks.

He trips over a pebble on the path, Dwalin catching him before he can fall. When upright again he brushes himself off and thanks Dwalin, then continues on his way. The others don't all move at once, however, and Bilbo stops after a couple strides and turns to find the rest of the Company staring at him strangely.

'Are you alright, lad?' someone asks. 'He looks like he's got a fever,' the voice whispers to no one in particular.

'No, I'm fine, honestly,' Bilbo waves away their concern but the motion sets him wobbling, and Thorin behind him clutches his collar to stop him over-balancing and falling.

'Look at him, he's bright-eyed and looks too hot,' another voice whispers, but Bilbo can't tell who it is because his vision is clouding, they're all swimming in front of him. He looks up, and the only thing he can make out is two dark eyes, staring down at him in confusion and someone calling his name as if from very far away, before everything goes black.


	4. Thorin II

**THORIN**

Bilbo sags in his grip, collapsing; if it weren't for Thorin's grasp on his jacket collar he'd be on the ground. Gently Thorin lowers the hobbit to the ground into a sitting position, and Thorin kneels next to him. Bilbo's head is lolling backwards, and he supports it with an arm.

'Óin!' he shouts, and the old dwarf hurries to join him by Bilbo's prone body. 'What's wrong with him?' Thorin growls, and Oin begins to tremble under Thorin's black gaze. Hurriedly he kneels next to Bilbo, and begins checking him over - checking his breathing (thankfully he is), opening one eye, and feeling Bilbo's flushed face.

Óin pauses for a moment, and wrings his hands. Thorin knows he's hiding something.

'What is it?' he asks, his voice menacing in the silence as the other dwarves watch the spectacle.

'Er, well, you see...' Óin gulps. 'He's gone to sleep,' he blurts in a rush.

'He's... Asleep?' Thorin asks, calm. Óin swallows audibly.

'Aye. Er...' He pulls out a bottle and hands it to Thorin, who takes it. Óin indicates he should open it and smell it; Thorin does so. There's a bitter under-note to the sharp ale - herbs. Thorin looks again at Bilbo. _Sleeping_ herbs.

Thorin looks up at Óin. 'Why are there sleeping herbs in your medicinal ale?'

'I - I dinnae ken!' Óin is flustered, and in his agitation he pulls on his beard, dislocating the plaits he painstakingly perfected.

Thorin glares at the rest of the Company. 'I _will_ find out who laced this ale with sleep herbs. Unless you'd like to tell me first...?'

Everyone avoids his gaze, but suddenly a cry rings out and Glóin is throwing his arms in the air as he pushes forward to the front of the group.

'It was me, Thorin! I'm sorry, I never realised-'

Thorin cuts him off with a weary sounding sigh. 'Just... Tell me why.'

Glóin glances at his older brother, who looks flabbergasted at this turn of events. He shuffles his feet. 'Well, it's - it's because... Óin, ye ken, he likes a bit of ale, and occasionally I'd find 'im swigging from the medicinal stuff. So before we left I put a bit of extract of valerian in - so as 'e'd fall asleep and learn a lesson - but I forgot to replace it...' Glóin resumes staring at the floor, like a naughty dwarfling caught pilfering the bread.

Thorin pinches the bridge of his nose; it's all rather laughable but he can't really believe that this is happening.

'How long will it take for the effects to wear off?' he asks.

Glóin shrugs and looks at Óin, who says, 'Well, ah, normally it's only a couple of hours, see, but valerian extract is prone to… mature, if you like, and it could take up until midday…' he trails off.

Midday? The sky is not yet fully light, and Thorin guesses it is about six of the clock, or perhaps a little earlier. _Midday_ …

'Right then,' he says, and waves the two away. Óin joins his brother among the ranks of dwarves, and Thorin hears him elbow Glóin in the ribs as they resume their places. Judging from Bilbo's stillness he's pretty deeply asleep, dead to the world. So for now, they've got a problem: how to get the hobbit around until he wakes up.

Thorin feels slightly jealous of the hobbit, so deeply asleep; Thorin couldn't sleep last night much at all, for many reasons - of which keeping watch was just one.

Fíli and Kíli come forward and offer to carry Bilbo, and Thorin gratefully takes them up on his offer. He is tired, and he doesn't think he can manage a hobbit as well as his other burdens. They start to walk, traipsing along the path through the forest. The other dwarves are raucous and noisy as usual, but Thorin doesn't listen. He is too preoccupied in watching Fíli and Kíli and the way that they are casually swinging Bilbo around between the two of them – they seem to keep forgetting that they are carrying a hobbit, and more than once Kíli has only just managed to grab hold of the arm or leg he has just dropped.

Thorin quickly stomps over to them, snatching the hobbit from their grip.

'Be careful with him!' he snaps, and Fíli and Kíli look surprised at the vehemence of his tone. Bofur and Bombur offer to take him, so Thorin carefully passes Bilbo to them and they start on their way again. But Thorin's attention keeps being drawn to Bilbo, and in the end he has had enough. He hurries over to them.

'No, you're carrying him wrong!' They are indeed – Bombur is taller than Bofur and the way they are carrying Bilbo, all the blood has rushed into his sleeping face and it is bright red. With a sigh Thorin takes Bilbo from them, and they let him; Thorin sees the glance that passes between them but resolutely ignores it.

Thorin carries Bilbo, like he would a baby – pressed close against his chest. He can feel Bilbo's breath tickling his beard, and he smiles when he glances down at Bilbo, still softly snoring.

They walk for hours, as the sun climbs higher in the sky and filters through the canopy of leaves above their heads. Birdsong sounds up ahead, although the birds have all flown off by the time Thorin and Company approach, frightened by the loud noise of many dwarf boots trampsing along the forest path.

The sun is reaching her zenith when Thorin feels Bilbo start to wake. The hobbit has a long waking process – first he begins to stretch, nearly punching Thorin in the face and causing him to drop him; then he wriggles in Thorin's grip, and Thorin has to hold onto him tightly for fear of dropping him; eventually though, he opens his eyes. Those bright green orbs stare out around him, blearily with sleep, taking in Thorin's arms wrapped firmly around him, until –

'Oh!' Bilbo exclaims, and immediately scrabbles out of Thorin's arms. Thorin places him gently on the ground, and Bilbo wobbles a bit and grabs onto Thorin for support while his legs regain their balance. Óin sees Bilbo awake and lets out an exclamation of delight, running forward to Bilbo and checking him over.

'Ach, lad! How d'ye feel?' he asks, and Bilbo puts his hand to his head, a grimace of pain flitting across his features.

'My head hurts,' he says. 'Do you have any more of that ale?'

Thorin knows that twelve pairs of dwarf eyes are turned to him, waiting for his reaction, and he scowls.


	5. Bilbo III

**BILBO**

Bilbo sees Thorin's black glower and Óin's sheepish face, and is terribly confused. For a start, he's just woken up; secondly he's just woken up in Thorin's arms; he doesn't even know why he was asleep in the first place; and now he appears to have said something bad.

He looks around at the dwarves – some smirking, some looking worried, and Bofur gives him a little wave – and he knows something has gone on. Something which concerns _him_.

'What happened?' he enquires of no one in particular, still clutching his head, which is throbbing like the time that he and his cousin Posco over-indulged on Posco's thirty-third birthday – Bilbo had been out of it for days! Even now, whenever he sees Posco an echo of the headaches he suffered comes back to haunt him.

He hears a little snicker from the group of dwarves, and he sees Óin glance at his brother. Thorin is still brooding, so Bilbo turns to him.

'Thorin! What happened?' he demands. Thorin's eyes snap to him and he answers.

'Someone-' he glances pointedly at Gloin '- laced Óin's ale with valerian extract. Which sent you to sleep,' he says drily. Bilbo feels heat flood his face - he remembers now. Well, he remembers blurred faces and voices sounding as if they were underwater, and then nothing.

'I was asleep,' he repeats. _And you carried me_ , he adds to Thorin in his head. The blush spreads to his neck as he thinks how close he's been to Thorin these past few hours, without even realising it. He feels a twinge - of regret? He quickly shakes his head, as if to dislodge that thought from his head.

Thorin still looks grumpy, so when he commands they move on Bilbo does his best to follow the order; but his legs are still weak from the effects of the valerian and as soon as Bilbo takes a step on his own he instantly topples over, landing heavily on his stomach on the dirt path.

He sees a flash of something in Thorin's eyes, but Óin moves to help him up before Bilbo can identify what it is. Once up, he brushes himself down and goes to try walking again, but Óin stops him with a hand to his arm.

'Thorin, the lad cannae walk. We ought to stop, take a rest. You've been carrying him for hours now,' he advises, and Thorin doesn't say anything. Then with a sigh he nods, motions for them to take a break. Óin leads Bilbo over to a raised knoll of grass and Bilbo sits down gratefully. Again, Thorin looks at him and in his gaze Bilbo sees something indiscernible, but then he turns his back on him and Bilbo feels strangely disappointed.

Dori, Nori and Ori come and join him soon and hand him a hunk of bread and cheese, and sit down next to him. He takes the food eagerly - he is ravenous. They soon begin idle chatter, and Bilbo asks what really happened.

Dori chuckles. 'Right worried we were about you, Bilbo, going and fainting on us like that - what with your head, we thought you'd gone and got brain damage or something!'

'Oh, you should have seen Thorin's face when we realised you were only _asleep_! I wouldn't have liked to have been Gloin, that's for sure,' Nori sniggers.

'He looked really scared at first,' Ori adds, munching thoughtfully on his bread. 'We all were, Bilbo - but Thorin looked ever so worried. Even Fíli and Kíli looked a bit shocked. And all I could think was - but I haven't finished teaching you Khuzdul yet!' Ori smiles, and Bilbo smiles back. 'But of course, you're alright now.' Ori pats his hand gently.

'And glad of it we are too.'

His voice sounds from above and Bilbo freezes. He looks up and Thorin is standing there, in front of the sun streaming in through the trees, and Bilbo has to squint to see him.

'Are you feeling better now, Bilbo?' he asks. Bilbo nods, and Thorin does the same. 'Right. Well. I'll send Óin over to change your bandage.'

And with that he's gone. Bilbo exhales - when had he started holding his breath?

As promised, Thorin does send Óin to fix his bandages; it is painful as the dried blood pulls at the new skin forming, but it has stopped bleeding. Now Bilbo just wishes desperately for a wash. Just to be on the safe side Óin replaces the old bandages with new ones, and when he's finished it is time to move on.

Bilbo ends up at the back again, but this time he has company. Balin keeps pace with him and regales Bilbo with stories about Erebor and Thorin as a young lad; Fíli and Kíli appear for a while and keep him amused.

But then it begins to rain. A torrent of fat, heavy drops of water that sting when they hit the skin, and Bilbo is soon miserable again. His bandages are causing a rivulet of rainwater to trickle coldly down his neck, seeping into his clothes. Even the hood the dwarves gave him is soon sodden.

The mood of the company turns dramatically, and everyone trudges along with heavy steps, their boots squelching in the thick mud - except for Bilbo, whose _feet_ squelch and get stuck more than once. In fact, he gets stuck so much that the dwarves unanimously decide he needs an escort, and Bofur appears by his side to help.

In the never-ending rain they walk, and the rain only gets even harder when the trees begin to grow sparsely. The only consolation is that they have reached the end of the forest, although no one really feels like celebrating.

Then Bilbo sees something that makes his heart sink.

A river, so swollen with the rains of the past few days that its waters are white with foam, moving dangerously fast and perilously deep. The Company stops in its tracks as they take in the sight.

There's no bridge, not for miles and miles. The water could take days or even weeks to subside, and they don't have time. So, to Bilbo's dismay, they will have to cross it now, before it gets dark. Bilbo knows he wanted a wash, but not _quite_ like this.

The dwarves aren't happy, but they know it's the only thing they can do. Thorin decides to ford the river first. He lifts his pack above his head and slowly wades into the icy water. Bilbo's heart is in his mouth as he watches, and he sees Thorin grit his teeth against the fierce cold.

It is deep, but only reaches Thorin's chest. This makes Bilbo's heart sink even further. He only just comes up to Thorin's chest; there is no way he'll be able to cross the violently churning river, and he can't swim.

He sidles up to Balin.

'Balin, I can't swim! It's too deep for me!' he says, desperation clear in his voice as he sees Thorin make it to the other side and Fíli and Kíli begin their crossing. His heart seems to be pumping at triple speed in his fear; he couldn't bear it if anything happened to any one of these dwarves, and he has no idea how to get across himself.

Balin motions to his brother. 'Dwalin will take you across,' he says, reassuring Bilbo. Bilbo admits that Dwalin, tall and strong as he is, does make for a reassuring carrier.

'Bilbo! Pass me your pack, I'll take it for you!' Bofur calls and Bilbo throws it to him. Bofur, Bombur and Bifur are all crossing now, Fíli and Kíli having joined their uncle on the other side where they are now laughing and wringing out their clothes. Bofur is especially careful not to let his hat drop as he wades across the river, and it makes Bilbo smile even in the midst of his panic.

When Balin has gone, and then Óin and Gloin, Dwalin decides to cross. He lifts Bilbo easily up onto his back, and Bilbo clings on for dear life.

 _Oh Valar_ , it's terrible; the water swirling around them trying to knock Dwalin over with every tiny, well-placed step he makes. Bilbo can see the others on the opposite shore, but he closes his eyes so that he can't see the ferociously roaring waters.

He feels Dwalin stumble and he tightens his grip, but the dwarf rights himself and they continue. But the next moment they reach a particularly strong current and Dwalin has only time to shout 'Balin!' before both hobbit and dwarf and pulled under.

Bilbo gasps as he hits the water, so cold it burns, and only manages to inhale a mouthful of water. It makes him cough, which makes it worse as he swallows more. He needs air, but he can't see, which way is up? It's dark, all around, and so cold. His clothes drag at him, pulling him down, and he feels himself being pulled along by the current. He's so _tired_. He tries kicking out, but he _can't_ , and he needs air... His limbs still.

Then suddenly he's up, out of the water; coughing up water out of his lungs so hard that he's retching. He still can't see, but there's light, and he feels grass beneath him as someone lies him down.

'Bilbo?' a panicked voice is calling him. 'Bilbo, please!'

He forces himself to focus, and sees Thorin's face peering down at him before he is enveloped in a bone-crushing hug, still coughing feebly.

'You're OK,' Thorin soothes, rubbing Bilbo's back as the last of the water leaves his lungs and he breathes deep, rugged, rasping breaths. Bilbo can't work out if Thorin is reassuring _him_ or himself, but as he clings to Thorin like the drowned hobbit he nearly was, he knows why his stomach back flips whenever he's with Thorin. He knows what made him volunteer for watch yesterday and get his head bashed up by a branch. He knows why he's so fiercely glad he's not dead, lost in the cruel waters of the river, and is here in Thorin's arms.

It's because he loves him.


	6. Thorin III

**THORIN**

The water is so cold that it forces the air from his lungs in shock; the current tugs at him, pulling at his clothes insistently. He grits his teeth and wades further in. Thorin doesn't know how deep it gets, but he has to go first - he must find out whether it is possible to cross, because even though the others annoy him no end sometimes, he doesn't want anything to happen to any one of them.

He reaches the middle of the river, and the swirling, foam-white waters come up to his chest. He knows Bilbo will not be able to cross this - he is too short, and this current is not for swimming through, either way. He glances back quickly, and sees the hobbit talking to Balin. He relaxes a little - the older dwarf will help him.

In that split second while his attention is elsewhere, the current pushes at him forcefully and he wobbles, but does not fall. Grimly he continues, placing one foot in front of the other carefully and precisely.

Eventually he reaches the other side and calls to the others; Fíli and Kíli begin to cross. They reach this side without incident, and Bifur, Bofur and Bombur join them too. Balin manages, then Óin and Gloin, and then it's Dwalin and Bilbo's turn.

While Thorin's heart is racing as he watches his family and friends, when he sees Bilbo clinging desperately to Dwalin's back, it twists painfully.

His eyes are fixed on the hobbit, whose features are pinched with fear as Dwalin makes the slow crossing of the river. Thorin's heat leaps to his mouth when he sees Dwalin falter, but when he rights himself relief washes through him.

He still doesn't take his eyes off them. Then he sees Dwalin stumble again, hears him call out Balin's name; and this time hobbit and dwarf go under. Bilbo doesn't have time to register what's even happened before he hits the water.

Immediately Thorin rushes forward and back into the water. When the water is up to his knees, Dwalin resurfaces, spraying and splashing cold water everywhere as he does so.

'Dwalin!' he hears Balin call his brother's name, and the old dwarf is in the water too, clutching at his brother and hugging him. While Thorin is immensely glad that Dwalin is alright, there is still no sign of Bilbo. He rushes further in, paying no heed to the cold any more. He can hear Bofur calling for the hobbit, and Dwalin is diving back under to see if he can find him.

Thorin heads further downstream then, knowing that the hobbit could not have put up much resistance to this current. He doesn't care about the cold; he just wants to find Bilbo. He dives under, the waters freezing his blood and darkness around him, and he can't see Bilbo. He resurfaces, moves further downstream. His breath is shaking as it leaves him, catching in his throat as he feels fear gripping him and squeezing the air from him.

He feels around the water, looking for any sign of the hobbit. He nearly trips on something; steadying himself he touches it - Bilbo!

The hobbit is sunk like a stone, and Thorin grasps him and pulls him up and out of the water; immediately Bilbo is gasping and choking as the water from his lungs is coughed up.

Thorin holds him to him as he heads back to the river bank. He lies the hobbit down on the soft grass, the rain still falling around them, and looks around to tell the others he has found them. They are so far upstream; the current has pulled him so far down. He clings to Bilbo, still coughing, wraps him in a hug so tight it hurts; he whispers soothing words to Bilbo, who clutches at him, and that gesture makes Thorin's heart falter.

'You're OK,' he murmurs, and he is not sure if he is reassuring himself or Bilbo. He knows then what he has been denying ever since the branch fell on Bilbo's head: he loves him, and never wants to leave him, ever.

But with this revelation Thorin feels no joy, but a sense of utter despair. He thinks about how Bilbo can barely bring himself to look at him most of the time, and how alive he seems to be with the others when with Thorin he is withdrawn. Bilbo doesn't love him – why would he, Thorin thinks savagely even as he holds the hobbit to him, when all Thorin has done is ridicule and ignore him? The events of the past twenty-four hours are not enough to change Bilbo's view of him. But how Thorin wishes it was so!

He knows the others are all approaching, Dori, Nori and Ori having made it safely across the river. He lets go of the hobbit, who doesn't meet his eye even as he still clutches at Thorin's furs.

Thorin looks up at the others, and the rain mixes with tears he wasn't even aware he'd shed. But he is thankful – they are concealed from the others.

'He's alright,' he says, and he sees the relief that appears on every single one of those faces.

Thorin releases Bilbo gently, and Óin takes over to make sure he is alright after his ordeal. Thorin stands and walks away; just looking at Bilbo makes his heart ache. He knows what he must do.

He stands alone by the packs, rainwater and river-water running down his face and off his hair and through his beard, but he doesn't let any more tears fall. He listens to the others, looking after Bilbo, whose voice is weak as he answers Óin that he feels fine. After a while Óin comes to him to tell him that Bilbo is asleep and to ask if they will be moving on?

Thorin nods, and the others all come and collect their packs. Thorin tells Fíli and Kíli to carry Bilbo; they look at him closely but nod, and then Thorin and Company moves on to find an area with shelter, away from rain and rivers.

As they walk it stops raining, and the clouds disperse to reveal an indigo sky dotted with softly glinting stars. Finally they find a rocky outcrop with tall trees and shrubbery that will serve as sufficient cover. Thorin motions for them to stop, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Fíli and Kíli place the still-sleeping Bilbo down gently and wrap him up in a blanket. He knows they will have to wake him up at some point to give him food, but Óin or Bofur or Ori will do that.

The others make a fire and Bombur sets to cooking. Thorin goes and sits on a rock away from the others while he tries to still his emotions. All he knows is that the thought of Bilbo rejecting him, as he knows he would do, is too painful to even bear; so self-preservation takes over and Thorin tries to suppress what he feels, to deny what his heart is telling him. Listening to his heart has never got him anywhere before; it won't now and all it will ever do is bring heart-break.

Balin brings him a bowl of hot and steaming vegetable stew a little later on, and sits stiffly down next to him. They eat in silence, and Thorin is grateful for the tasty warmth of the stew as it fills his belly and burns away some of the loneliness he feels. Balin beside him seems focused on his food, but Thorin is thankful for his presence.

'Bilbo's awake now. He's eating,' Balin states simply, not looking up from his bowl. Thorin glances at the older dwarf, but says nothing.

'Why do you tell me?' he asks eventually, his voice gruff. He continues eating, as if unconcerned with the news.

Balin shrugs. 'No particular reason. I just thought you might like to know how our burglar is doing.'

'And why would you think that?' Thorin asks drily, turning to the white-haired dwarf beside him.

Balin looks at him, those eyes full of sympathy. Thorin hates it.

'I'm going to bed,' he announces, and gets up, leaving his bowl on the rock where he was sitting.

'Thorin…' Balin says.

'I don't want your pity, Balin,' Thorin says, turning back to face him. 'I know you know – how could you not? You always know. And I know what you're going to say,' Thorin gulps for a moment. 'But I know what I'm doing. It's better that I forget.'

'Thorin, my lad. You know I want you only to be happy. Just… make sure you're not killing that chance before it's even had a chance to live.'

Thorin nods, and turns and walks off. He finds a secluded spot away from the others, where he can't see them. Where he can't see Bilbo.

He lies under the cover of a tall tree, and he thinks of the events of only a day ago, when he had been staring at a tree just like this one and had seen Bilbo outlined in the grooves. He pushes the thought from his mind.

Instead he turns onto his back and looks up at the sky. He thinks of how much those skies have seen; how many poor wretches like himself those stars have watched destroy themselves.

He won't let himself destroy himself. He vows that; pledges it to the silent skies above, and in their mute and unresponsive beauty finds a certain solace that lulls him to sleep.


	7. Bilbo IV

**BILBO**

Bilbo is still weak when he wakes the next morning. He lies still, not opening his eyes yet. The cold from the water seems to have permeated into his bones; he is stiff and aching. Behind his closed lids he sees it still – the suffocating darkness of the river, the white brightness of the daylight; Thorin's face as he pressed him to his chest.

Thinking of Thorin makes Bilbo's heart race. Where is he? He wants to see him; he never got to thank him for saving him. He smiles when he thinks of Thorin.

'Good morning, Bilbo!' he hears a cheery voice greet him. He opens his eyes, and Bofur is standing there, holding a wooden bowl of steaming porridge. Bilbo starts to sit up, and Bofur kneels down to help him. Thanking him, Bilbo takes the bowl and gratefully begins to eat. He is famished, and he makes short work of the porridge.

'Glad to see you're feeling better,' Bofur smirks, and Bilbo laughs. He feels more than better – in fact, he feels like he could dance, right there and then.

'Where's Thorin?' he asks. 'I… I want to thank him, for yesterday.'

Bofur's smile slips away, to be replaced by a frown. Bilbo's heart starts racing again and he feels a sense of foreboding, although he doesn't know why.

'He's not here. He went walking at dawn - said to get more firewood, but everyone knows he's never bothered with that before - and wouldn't take any breakfast. Balin says to let him alone but no one knows what's wrong,' Bofur explains.

'But when will he be back?' Bilbo asks.

'Should be any minute. It's fully light now so we should be moving soon,' Bofur replies, looking up at the sky. His usual sly grin appears back on his face, and he nudges Bilbo. 'At least it doesn't look like it's going to rain today, eh?'

Bilbo laughs, and then Bofur gets up to help his brother finish clearing breakfast. Bilbo heaves a sigh and gets up himself, slowly, and begins to roll up his blankets back into his pack. Just as he finishes he hears the others' conversations stop for a moment and then quickly resume. He looks up, and Thorin is back. The dwarf meets eye for just a moment; but then his features harden and he turns on his heel, walking away.

Bilbo is confused. He suddenly doubts his ability to walk more than a few metres now, let alone whether he could dance a jig. The coldness in Thorin's eyes - it makes Bilbo shiver. He stands alone for a while, until Ori approaches and offers Bilbo an arm to lean on during their long march today. Bilbo accepts the offer gladly, and the warm brown kindness of Ori's eyes is such a contrast to the black fire of Thorin's.

Soon they begin, and true to form Bilbo ends up at the back. Again. But Ori is good company and chatters on about his journal and all the things he wants to put in it - he'd like to draw a sketch of Bilbo, if he'd agree to it; Bilbo smiles and agrees. They continue to walk, and the land they are traversing now has become wooded again.

They walk until midday, when they stop for lunch. Bilbo watches Thorin, and immediately heads towards where he is standing. He sees Thorin turn his way ever so slightly and speeds up, but Thorin moves off into the woods and Bilbo stops, hurt at this obvious rebuff. He chews on his lip, as if the pain of it could chase away the turmoil in his heart.

He returns to the others and accepts his hunk of bread from Bombur and sits morosely down on the grass. Absently he chews on the bread, turning it to mulch in his mouth but not tasting it. He stares at the ground, looking at the patterns trampled into the grass, and listens to the sounds of the others - Fíli and Kíli brushing up on their swordsmanship, Glóin trying to wheedle a bit more bread from Bombur, Balin talking in a hushed voice -

Bilbo's ears prick up. Balin is walking behind him, and Bilbo can just make out his words.

'Why do you do this to yourself? Why do you hide what you feel? It's not right on him, Thorin. Think how it looks to the lad - you save him from drowning, and then you completely ignore him. It's cruel, on him _and_ yourself...'

Bilbo's heart hammers in his chest; it can only be him that Balin is referring to, but what does he mean? The fact that Thorin was close only serves to make Bilbo's blood pound through his veins.

Bilbo is given no time to consider Balin's words as soon he is being called - they are on the move again. He sighs - he never thought, all tucked up in his cosy hole in Bag End, that an adventure could be so boring. Uncomfortable? Certainly. Perilous? Of course. But their days are just a routine of walking and occasionally eating with a couple of hours' sleep thrown in. Although to be fair, things have definitely picked up these last few days, he reflects as he pulls on his pack. And when he sees Thorin up ahead, he knows he wouldn't have missed it for the world.

And so they walk; through gently wooded land, still smelling of damp earth from the rains yesterday and all the leaves practically glowing with greenness as dew continues to drip occasionally onto their heads.

It is Dori who lends him an arm this time; the strong dwarf so thoughtful that Bilbo wonders at his terrifying skill with an axe. He is as chatty as his youngest brother, though, and Bilbo can't help but feel cheered by Dori even as he puzzles over Balin's words and Thorin's behaviour. In a sudden moment of bravery, he asks Dori why Thorin is ignoring him.

Dori's brows knit together as he answers. 'If truth be told, he's ignoring everyone 'cept Mr Balin. All I know is he looks sad.'

Bilbo nods and looks down at the path they are following. He wants to talk to Thorin; to comfort him, if he's sad. But it looks to Bilbo like it's back to the _'burglar'_ treatment - only speak to if necessary and avoid if possible. He wants to be angry at Thorin for it - but he can't bring himself to. Not if he's sad. All Bilbo wants to do is hug him and never let go, not even if the world is ending around them. He remembers all the times Thorin has touched him over the past few days, however lightly, and the tingle it has never failed to induce down his spine.

The rest of the day is uneventful and eventually they can stop. He watches Thorin immediately head off into the deeper woods, and feels his heart wringing inside of him. He hates this, all this watching from afar like a lovesick lass. He always told himself as a tween that he'd never do that, as he watched his friends make fools of themselves, so why should he start now?

Determined, he drops his pack and follows Thorin. He doesn't feel tired any more, not with this much adrenaline pulsing through his veins. On his quick and silent hobbit feet he follows the sound of Thorin's stomping boots. He can hear Thorin muttering as he walks.

Suddenly he hears a loud 'Ouch!' from where Thorin is standing, now rubbing his head and looking up into the branches of a tree. Bilbo sees something land on the floor and roll in his direction: a pine cone. He smirks as he realises what has happened – the scene looks strangely familiar.

He takes a deep shuddering breath. It's now or never. If he's come this far, he can do this.

He scurries forward silently and picks it up.

'I think you dropped something,' he says simply, his voice loud in the silence.

He sees Thorin freeze. 'What are you doing here?'

'Looking for you. I never got to thank you - for saving my life.'

Thorin still hasn't turned, and Bilbo chews on his lip again.

'You don't have to. I'd do it for anyone.' Thorin's voice is stony, and Bilbo's courage begins to ebb; but then Thorin turns to look at him, those eyes wary but soft, and Bilbo's heart wells up with emotion. With love. There's everything he ever wants, standing right there in front of him.

He takes another breath, determination flooding his body again as he steps closer to Thorin, closing the gap between them. He hands Thorin the pine cone.

'Silly dwarf,' he says softly, and jumps when Thorin's hand, warm and calloused, touches his to take the pine cone. 'You really should watch out for falling objects.'

He sees Thorin smile through his black beard, strands of silver running through it.

Then suddenly he feels a pain on his own head, and reels from the force as another falling pine cone bounces off his skull. At least it doesn't reopen the wound from the branch.

Thorin's smile grows wider as he steadies Bilbo with a hand to his arm.

'Silly hobbit,' he says. 'You _especially_ should watch out for falling objects.'

He's looking at Bilbo that makes Bilbo want to melt in his arms, lost in his embrace, but Bilbo forces himself to stay, looking into Thorin's dark black eyes. Suddenly he laughs - he can't help it.

Thorin looks confused. 'What is it?' he demands, and Bilbo has to hold his breath to make himself stop.

What makes him laugh is that he _remembers_ : he remembers exactly what he was thinking when the branch fell on his head, rendering him unconscious. He remembers thinking about how beautiful Thorin's eyes are, how changeable and powerful they are, the shrewd intelligence and fierce determination when he thinks of their Quest, but the quiet love when he watches his nephews and kin. Bilbo remembers wanting them to be turned on him for a change, the dark haze of desire smouldering in those orbs. Of course it all seemed so ridiculous then, but standing here in this forest with Thorin, alone, he reckons maybe it's not so far off the mark after all.


	8. Thorin IV

**THORIN**

Thorin has never been so happy to be stalked in his entire life - not when his stalker is a curly-haired hobbit with a ready smile and eyes that are as green as the trees they stand amongst. When Bilbo explains his laughter, Thorin feels his lips stretch into an even wider smile and unconsciously he leans forward, closer to Bilbo, until they are touching.

He has never felt so happy. He thought he would always be alone - being Prince was solitary, being an _exiled_ Prince was lonely. When Dís was married he saw her smiling face and thought how unobtainable it was for him; but now he has it. Found in the arms of a hobbit and a burglar, no less. He laughs at the irony that it was the burglar who stole his heart.

He gazes down into Bilbo's eyes, so light and happy, and feels guilt choke up his throat. He has to explain to him why he did what he did; that it wasn't to hurt him...

'Bilbo, I'm so sorry,' he whispers, and leans his head down until his forehead is pressed against Bilbo's, 'I didn't do it to hurt you. I -'

Bilbo puts a finger to his lips, cutting him off. He smiles up at Thorin.

'I know. I heard Balin talking to you at lunch. You don't have to explain.'

Thorin closes his eyes and just smiles, wrapping his arms around Bilbo and bringing him even closer. In his embrace is everything Thorin ever wants, ever needs, and he doesn't think he can ever let go.

He feels Bilbo's soft fingers stroke his cheek, and he catches them and kisses them ever so lightly. Bilbo laughs, and then freezes. He turns a stricken face to Thorin

'They're coming! The others!' he whispers. And now Thorin can hear them too, many pairs of heavy boots stomping around and cracking twigs as they walk. They are calling for them; evidently Thorin's 'walk' has been longer than he thought.

He looks back at Bilbo. 'I don't care,' he says, and so saying leans forward until his lips brush Bilbo's, then draws back. 'I love you, Bilbo Baggins,' he says, and Thorin swears he sees a tear glinting in Bilbo's eye before he hastily wipes it away.

'And I love you, Thorin,' he says, a wide grin on his face. Suddenly someone comes crashing through the undergrowth: Fili. Kili arrives not far behind. Then suddenly they are _all_ there, and Thorin sees Balin at the back grinning like the dwarfling who's just received his first axe.

Thorin is still hugging Bilbo, and suddenly he feels a little awkward; but when he feels Bilbo begin to let go of him he immediately tightens his grip protectively, possessively, and the two of them stand there, embracing under the force of twelve dwarves' gaze.

'Bombur,' he calls. 'Make something special for dinner tonight.' With that, the others all hurry off back to their camp, delighted calls echoing through the forest.

When they have all gone, Thorin looks back at Bilbo, who looks a little dazed.

'I suppose we should join them eventually,' he murmurs.

'Mm,' Bilbo hums in agreement, 'but first...'

He closes the distance between them again and forgets everything except Thorin's lips on his, the feel of his soft beard and the intense happiness welling up inside him and threatening to bubble free.

'Hm,' Thorin says when they break apart and begin walking back to join the others, 'never thought I'd kiss someone beardless.'

He sees the look Bilbo shoots him and laughs.

'Even dwarf women have beards?' Bilbo asks. 'No. You're joking.'

'Maybe I am,' he agrees. 'But you're still the thief who succeeded in stealing my heart.'

Bilbo smiles. 'Bodes well for our Quest, then!'

_FINIS_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, um. I didn't mean to completely forget I'd even written this story, but here we are. It's very... well. I hope you enjoyed and I apologise that this is so clunky - I'll probably go back and rewrite this someday and make it a little less rushed. But there we are. Thank you everyone for commenting and kudos!

**Author's Note:**

> Because it's already written I'll be updating this daily. :) Please let me know what you think! :D
> 
> I'd also just like to say that I didn't ship Thilbo at first but then I read Littleblackdog's "Larkspur Magic" and my heart kind of squeed, and I haven't looked back since :D


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